


Ice Planet

by TeamThor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hulk Needs a Hug, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Hypothermia, M/M, Near Death, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Protective Hulk (Marvel), Stranded, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 16:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20567564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamThor/pseuds/TeamThor
Summary: Thor and Bruce are sent on a scouting mission post-ragnarok to find a habitable planet. But something goes wrong, as things often do, and it's up for them to look after each other. Stranded on a planet of ice, alone and isolated, the two strongest avengers have a lot of time to themselves, to talk, to bond, but most importantly to survive





	1. Crashlanding

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is going to be another multi chapter fic, and it's one that's been in the works for a while now. I hope to update it at least once every two weeks, but I'm starting uni soon so won't be super flexible. Still, hope this one is fun for everyone to read. Enjoy the angst!

The second Thor opened his eyes, he knew he was in trouble. 

Of course, he knew he'd been in trouble prior to this. The last memory he had before he was plunged into unconsciousness (or hit, as the dried blood and ringing pain around his head suggested) was sirens. The small craft burning with red lights, pounding and spinning as alarm bells screamed. Bruce's face, panicked and frantic as Thor had tried to strap him into a chair.  
Then they'd hit something. 

And then, nothing. 

He groaned slightly, attempting to move, to stand, to do anything. But his body wouldn't co-operate. Every slight twitch of a muscle was met with a new wave of pain, somehow both sharp and dull, dragging deep against his bones. Bad. That was bad. He didn't think anything was broken, which was a blessing considering their situation, but it wasn't helpful that his mind wouldn't focus. Sounds faded in and out, black spots darted across his vision, and something was digging into his back which was really starting to get on his nerves.  
He needed to pull himself together if he was going to get he and Bruce out of there. 

His breath caught in his throat. 

Bruce. Small, fragile, terrifyingly mortal Bruce. 

Glass crunched underneath him as he shifted his head, at least trying to get a handle on where they were, attempting to catch a glimpse of the scientist or even his green counterpart.  
He stilled, as a distinct crack met his ears, and his eyes drifted slowly down to the source. 

He barely stifled a yelp as he was met with a seemingly infinite drop, a deep canyon of ice and snow, separated from him only by a thin sheet of glass from one of the viewing-windows. A sheet of glass that was quickly breaking under his weight, cracks spider-webbing out from his hands as he pushed himself upright. 

Cautiously, he called out to the dark of the silent spaceship. 

"Bruce?" 

A deep groaning responded, too deep to be Bruce's, but the right frequency for someone else he knew. Metal paneled floors screeched their complaints as the green Goliath emerged from the shadows, dragging his feet somewhat in a manner that only managed to raise Thor's alarm further. 

"Blondie." Hulk replied, one hand pressed to his head in an echo of an injury that didn't quite belong to him. 

"Thank the Norns you're alright. I was getting worried."  
Thor risked a further glance downwards, panic trying to grip his lungs as he stared at the canyon, brain caught in replaying what could've been their fate, had the wingspan of the spacecraft not stopped their plunge into the surface. 

Or, rather, his fate. Something told him Hulk would be just fine if they'd crashed completely. He, however, was somewhat vulnerable. At least to large free falls through icy caverns to what was most certainly a hard ground below. If there even was a ground down there, and it wasn't just some bottomless pit that would drop him straight into Helheim and- oh dear, this was bad. 

Hulk surveyed the situation, the panicking demigod, the cracked glass, and remarkably retained his cool, pun not intended. He tilted his head, taking a few more cautious steps forward until he arrived at what would've been the ledge of the viewing-window, had the ship been at all upright. 

It might've just been the product of what he was now sure was a concussion, but it reminded him a little of Bruce's work in the laboratory. An analytical gaze sweeping the situation, weighing up consequences and outcomes to eventually come to a well rationalized solution.  
Or at least something that was rationalized in Hulk's mind. The prospect of being snatched away from the glass was tempting, but Thor was also keenly aware of the noises the ship was making. 

He knelt, reaching out carefully to where Thor was seemingly frozen in place, silencing his protests with a sharp glare that said - I know what I'm doing. 

"Blondie stay still. Hulk handle this." Radioactively green eyes narrowed in concentration, huge hands converging on where the demi-god was half crouched, arms splayed out towards him in a frantic warning. 

It wasn't until Hulk had yanked him away from the glass that Thor was able to breathe again, hands scrabbling for purchase on a mountainside of green muscle. It actually took a little bit of coaxing for Hulk to be even able to put him down, resulting in Thor landing in a decidedly unkingly pile on the much more stable floor. 

Thor wheezed out a faint 'thanks', patting Hulk on the leg as he took a minute to compose himself, trying to nudge his brain into forming some sort of plan for how they were going to get out of here. Because the planet they were heading to had been classed rather highly on the helpful system Valkyrie had found, had promised locals and civilisation and technology. And, perhaps more importantly, had absolutely nothing about ice plains and dangerous caverns. 

Which meant, they were lost. 

Thor cursed under his breath, pulling himself roughly to his feet and stumbling towards the guidance system. When it remained unresponsive under his fingertips, the cursing got a little louder, and blue sparks crackled between his knuckles. 

"Storm break ship?" Hulk was suddenly at his side, looming over the control panel with an inquisitive look, prodding at buttons with large fingers. 

"Seems that way." Thor sighed, lowering his head. 

No guidance systems. No communications equipment. Not even enough energy to power up a map of where they were.  
This truly was a mess.  
The cold metal of the panel touched his forehead as he sank back onto his knees, mulling over the situation. Had he been stranded with anyone else, he might be taken this time to pitch a hissy fit that would light up the entire canyon like Stark Tower at Christmas. But, he wasn't with just anyone.  
Hulk was still standing behind him, looking at him expectantly, waiting to hear how they'd fix this. 

He couldn't panic him, not without risking more damage to the ship than there was already. 

"Is Bruce alright? All of this…" he gestured fruitlessly to the buttons and dials before them, giving the harsh metal surface a hefty smack for good measure.  
"I don't know. It seems like he'd have an idea of what to do." 

Hulk shrugged his shoulders, screwing his eyes tightly shut in concentration. When nothing happened, and he remained firmly hulk-sized, he sighed somewhat, shaking his head.  
"Banner get hurt in fall. Hulk have to come out to help."

"Is he alright?" 

"Sleeping." Hulk sniffed, prodding and subsequently wincing at the particular sore spot on his head that he seemed to be sharing with Bruce. 

The flesh around the cut was bruised a deeper, darker green - the colour more akin to seaweed than the light, fern colored green he was used to associating with hulk by now. A quick scan of Hulk's body betrayed no other secret injuries, which he was quietly thankful for. The adrenaline of the crash seemed to be wearing off, and with it came a considerable rise in panic.  
He didn't know where they were, how they got there, or how to leave. Throw an injured hulk into the mix and things would certainly seem drastic. 

One thing at a time. Just take things one thing at a time. 

He couldn't do anything about the dashboard, not without Bruce's nimble fingers and keen mind. That much was clear.  
What he could do was something he'd mastered quite a while ago. Fussing over Hulk. 

Hulk seemed as antsy as he was, so it was quite a feat to even coax him into sitting down, let alone letting Thor prod and poke at his injury. He'd received quite a few warning growls when his attempts at stitching proved too provoking, and narrowly avoided a fist when he'd first started the process. 

It was strange, but whenever Thor needed a calming voice, or a rational set of instructions, it was barely ever his own that came back to answer him. Whether it was through some feat of dark magic or just his own mind creating the association, his internal mantra of 'stay calm, take things slowly, don't do anything stupid' sounded a lot more like Heimdall than it probably should have.  
He smiled weakly to himself at the thought as he worked, wiping over the wound with antiseptic. He could picture Heimdall's face now, when Valkyrie told him that their ship had dropped off the radar. His sigh was so vivid in his mind that he could practically feel the golden gaze landing on him, eyes narrowing in scrutiny-

"Thor, this is not your imagination. I can see you." 

He glanced up, the deep voice resounding in his head bringing him momentary calm, but also momentary panic. He'd had to have messed things up pretty badly if Heimdall had started talking to him, rather than just Bifrost-ing them home for the lecture. 

"I can't see you, though." Thor swallowed nervously, glancing around him for any sign of his friend.  
"Can barely hear you, either. I think the storm is messing with the signal."

"I'm not a telephone, my king. The signal is bad because of how lost you are." Heimdall paused, as if taking a moment to scratch his head in exasperated wonder. "I'm amazed at how lost you are."

"I work fast. You put me, the Hulk, and Bruce Banner on a ship and you can expect great things. Granted that greatness tends to be focalised around crashing spaceships, but-"

Heimdall cut him off with a sharp cough, one that he distinctly remembered from his childhood that meant 'please, please just let me get to the point so you can stop being stupid.'

He'd heard that cough a lot. 

"Are either of you injured?" 

"No, no we're fine." 

Hulk snorted below him, turning to angrily gesture at his bandaged head.

"Alright, I'm fine." He corrected himself quickly, batting at a large green hand that came up to fiddle with the wrapped wound.  
"Hulk hit his head, but it's nothing I can't deal with." 

"I ask because it may take us a while to get to you, what with the state of our people and all that. It could be a matter of weeks." Heimdall paused for a moment, the deep tones of his voice only reappearing with a small amount of doubt infecting the rest of his words.  
"You're sure you're both alright to wait that long?"

"Yes, Heimdall. We're fine."  
And Thor was fine, really. Sure, the adrenaline of his narrowly avoided plummet was beginning to wear off giving way to a really bad headache, but he was fine. Truly.  
"You best get back to the helm now, my friend. I'll leave you to run things until we figure a way out of this place."

"Pretty sure I've been running Asgard for longer than that."

"What?"

"Nothing, my king. I will try to check back with you later." 

Thor bit back a smile, nodding sagely as the gatekeepers voice began to fade from his mind.  
"Goodbye, Heimdall."

"Bye, Heimdall." Hulk echoed in a gruff voice, waving his hand around in a general direction of where he thought Heimdall might be, although he had no more of an idea than Thor did about saying goodbye to someone a whole galaxy over.  
Still, Thor caught the last few dregs as Heimdall's sight left them, and he swore he felt a fading fond smile grace the gatekeepers features. 

With Heimdall's watchful presence faded into the background, a sense of unease was swift to follow. He had to focus on the situation, of course he knew that. But that didn't stop the ever present parade of alarm bells that were going off in his mind now that their situation began to settle in fully. What next, Thor? Heimdall isn't around to get you out of this mess, Thor. You're stuck on a ship with the Hulk and seemingly no way out of it, and you haven't even begun to think about food or water or heat or-

"Blondie." Hulk's voice rumbled close to his ear, a large hand moving to grip his bicep with enough force to derail his train of thought entirely. 

"What?"

Hulk gestured upwards, towards a window, and the storm that was quickly gathering outside of it. Forks of lightning shot through the air, landing dangerously close to their already vulnerable ship.  
A final crack of thunder illuminated the room blue, and Thor got the message. 

He lowered his head, trying to forget about the situation they were in, and focusing instead on his breathing, pretending like he was back in the compound, trying out yoga with Bruce. A gentle mantra of breathe in and out echoed through his mind, and the storm outside reduced to a light drizzle. 

"I'm sorry. Controlling it without Mjolnir is proving to be a tad more difficult than I anticipated."  
Thor attempted to smile his apology through, shaking his hands to try and disperse the few sparks that still lingered on his fingertips, like dust clinging to an antique clock. 

Hulk grunted, moving to his feet to inspect the ship further, which proved to be rather difficult considering that this mission was planned for Thor and Bruce. Of course, an appearance from Hulk had been accounted for - it always was, nowadays. But the craft was small, the metal paneled ceilings grazing the top of Hulk's head as he walked, forcing him to bend in a manner that didn't look too comfortable. 

The green Goliath eventually turned back to Thor, gesturing around the ship in frustration.  
"Can't use Bifrost?" 

"No, apparently we're too far away."

"Hm." Hulk seemed to consider this point, thick brows furrowed in thought as he picked apart another scenario.  
"Blondie fly back to ship, use Bifrost then?"

"I can't fly without my hammer, Hulk. And that would still leave you stuck here."  
Thor moved to the still unlit control panel, poking at the unresponsive system with a tight frown, his tone turning slightly bitter with the next few words that slipped out of his mouth.  
"Can't seem to do much of anything without my hammer, actually." 

A small grunt followed, and he felt a clumsy hand land on his shoulder in an attempt at comfort.  
It was definitely something to think about, how far Hulk had come. And Thor often wondered if he'd truly had the chance to grow and learn, or if he'd always been like this from the start. Always been kind, goofy, and willing to help when he could. Always able to form friendships and laugh at jokes, and it was only with his break from earth that people had started to see it.  
Whatever the option was, Thor couldn't quite banish the smile from his face that came from a comforting hand from his friend. 

It was nice having someone bigger than you to look out for you. Like a safety net of forest green hanging beneath him. 

Thor held onto the hand smothering his shoulder, although he was only able to really grip two of Hulk's fingers with any conviction. Still, he tried to return the favour, as best he could. Let Hulk know that this was appreciated, and maybe inspire him with some hope that Thor could still get them out of this thing yet. 

"Well, look. The others are coming to find us. We just have to make it until they get here, right?" 

"Right." Hulk echoed, although he still looked unsure, glancing sidewards occasionally at the snow that was quickly gathering against the window. 

"So all we have to do is stay warm, not starve, and try our very best not to murder eachother. It's a piece of cake! Practically a holiday." 

"Hulk not like cake." 

"Oh, a piece of whatever it is you do like, then. The point is we're going to be fine, Hulk. You don't have to worry."  
Thor turned, standing on his tiptoes to try and meet Hulk's eyeline.  
"We'll be back with the Asgardians before you know it." 

Hulk shuffled his feet, bringing up his green eyes to flicker across Thor's face, studying him deeply as if he could gain his enthusiasm simply by staring.  
"Thor promise?"

"Stark once told me that this kind of promise is the most unbreakable kind on Midgard. Enough to bind kingdoms together, enough to battle the Norns themselves."

Thor grinned, taking Hulk's pinkie finger in his hand, and hooking it around his own. 

"So not only do I promise you, dear companion. I pinkie promise you. All will be well." He released Hulk's hand, moving instead to clasp the shoulder of his friend, attempting to rub reassuring circles into the rock hard skin.  
"Trust me. Everything will be alright."


	2. First Night, First Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Hulk settle in for their first night on the planet, and decide to exchange stories.

Somehow, they’d gotten onto the topic of stories.

It had come up somewhere between the end of Heimdall’s call and them settling in for the night, while the two had been raiding the ships cupboards for blankets and supplies to make their first night just a tad less dire. Thor had to hand it to them, they made a pretty good pair of vultures. Within a few hours of searching Thor had found some kind of Sakaarian tea, and with some experimenting that would make Bruce proud (or, more likely horrified, given that the experiment was “drink it and see what happens, blondie”) it had proven to be quite enjoyable. With their hands warmed by mugs, and their bodies pillowed by the copious amounts of blankets Hulk had dumped on the floor, they’d settled in for a night of rest. 

“Blondie know any stories?” 

Hulk’s voice dragged him forcefully out of the nap he’d been rapidly approaching, and he sat up with a small frown. 

“Why do you want to know?” He rubbed at a particularly tender spot on the back of his head, looking over to where Hulk’s eyes watched him from beneath a veritable mountain of blankets. 

The mound moved as Hulk shrugged his shoulders, burrowing slightly deeper out of sight.   
“Like stories before sleep. Angry girl told good ones before fights. Helps, sometimes.” 

“You…” Thor paused, quickly lifting his mug up to his face to hide the grin that was rapidly approaching. “You - the Hulk, Champion of Sakaar - would like me, Thor Odinson, King of Asgard, to read you a bedtime story?” 

“Yes.”

Thor pressed the cup firmer against his face, trying ever so valiantly to hide the onslaught of giggles that were rapidly trying to claw their way up his throat. 

“Why Thor laughing?” Hulk’s fist exploded from the blankets, swiping in Thor’s general direction. “Stop it!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not making fun of you, I promise.” Thor set his cup back down on the floor, wiping at the corner of his good eye as the last few chuckles escaped him in breathy gasps.   
“I just think it’s sweet, that’s all. You’re actually a big softie.”

“Hulk not soft! Thor soft!” 

“You are! You’re really just a big huggable green gentleman, aren’t you?” 

“Not talking to you anymore. Hulk go to sleep now.” Hulk huffed, twisting himself onto his side in a dramatic flourish of blankets and green, letting out a few exaggerated snores to let Thor know that he really wasn’t listening, and had definitely gone to sleep. 

“Oh, come on. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.” 

Nothing. Radio silence stared back at him, and okay, maybe Thor was feeling slightly guilty now. 

“I could tell you about Asgard?” Thor offered to the sullen pile of blankets that had moved themselves a considerable distance away - yet not so far that Hulk couldn’t hit him if he needed to. 

Hulk didn’t reply, but there was a slight twitch to his shoulders, a raising of the thick brows that clued Thor in to know his friend was listening. And wanted to know more. 

“You would’ve loved Asgard.” Thor sighed wistfully, staring up at the ceiling, as if a hard enough gaze could transform it into another world entirely.   
“I had these friends there, called the Warriors 3. They would’ve loved to meet you. You would’ve liked Volstagg the best - I can tell.” 

“Volstagg?”   
Hulk made an inquisitive noise, prodding Thor in the back with a large finger, as if he could dislodge more of the story that way. 

“Yes, Volstagg. Lets see, uh, well he was tall. And large. And he had this fantastic red beard, long - very long, all adorned with metal trinkets and the like.” 

Thor resigned himself to the role of the story teller, propping himself up onto his fist as he thought. Thought about that loud laughter, raucous and obnoxious but somehow so infectious that had hung over every feast on Asgard he’d ever had. About the red faces of him and his friends, staggering home late at night, the sound of drunkenly sung ballads filling the night air - at least until someone from the houses above had opened their windows to tell them kindly but firmly to shut it. 

He realised he’d been thinking a bit too long when Hulk’s finger poked into his back again, and he smiled his apologies, turning over to continue. 

“Volstagg liked to laugh. And to eat and cook hearty meals. And to fight, like the rest of us. Anything, really. As long as he was alongside his friends.” Thor reached out his hand, returning Hulk’s gesture with a light nudge to his shoulder.   
“You would’ve been thick as thieves.” 

Hulk seemed happy with that, at least. Leaf- coloured features twisted themselves into a face of pure concentration, as he evidently tried to imagine the scene for himself. To conjure up memories that he didn’t have. 

Thor wondered how many times Hulk had had to do that. Fill in the blanks of a life he shared, but didn’t lead. Trust people and places and things, not because he’d experienced them for himself, but for the simple fact that Bruce had chosen to do so before him. Bruce had made the call on their friendship, after all. The only one that had been Hulk’s first was Valkyrie. 

It was a privilege, Thor decided. A luxury, to be shared and treasured by both Bruce and Hulk. To be trusted by two people who had been given so many reasons not to trust. 

“Hulk not see Volstagg on ship.”   
Hulk’s low tones disrupted him this time, the grumble tinted with slight confusion - and caution. A question to be asked that Hulk perhaps thought he knew the answer to already, but didn’t want to say. Didn’t want to assume. 

“Thor’s friends in space?” 

“No, no. Volstagg’s…”

Dead, said the voice inside his head. 

The unfamiliar one, that wasn’t Heimdall or Loki or Odin or Frigga, but him. More akin to his own twisted words that were forced out of his mouth in the Waters of Sight, when the Norns had used him as their puppet. The voice of the universe, echoing through his conscience, that spoke of his failures. A constant, like gravity, pounding against his skull in the hours of night telling him again and again that he was wrong.

Dead, he’s dead, they’re all dead and they’re not coming back. 

“Volstagg passed on, I’m afraid. As did Fandral and Hogun.” He finally decided on vague condolences, tailoring the words carefully. If he threw up a barricade of eloquence, he was okay. Politeness and civility could mask the gaping hole inside his heart, for now. Just to answer Hulk’s questions.   
“Sif is probably still out there though, somewhere. I’m sure we’ll see her again.”

A quiet settled between the two, broken by the creaking of metal and the howling blizzard outside. His fingers clenched around the metal bars below him, tight enough to hurt. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He cursed himself quietly, forcing his gaze to the dark corners of the ship. Hulk had asked for a story, something quiet and calm, something to take his mind off of the isolation and panic. He hadn’t asked for an obituary, a counting call for all of Thor’s dead. He hadn’t wanted that. But of course, Thor had given it to him. Because he was selfish and cruel and stupid-

Hulk’s breath was hot against his ear as the giant turned over, nose just grazing the skin of Thor’s neck in a way that made his heart jump. 

“Hulk sorry.” A green hand was placed against his back - warmth, spreading over him like a heavy blanket. 

His heart definitely jumped then. 

“It’s...it’s fine.” Thor reached behind him, patting at Hulk’s chest. “It’s not as if I’ve lost everyone. I’ve still got you, for starters. And Heimdall, Loki, and we both met Valkyrie. Plus all of the avengers back at home, waiting for us. I’ve still got people.” 

“Still hurts, though.”

Thor swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling rather tight. But Hulk’s hand was warm, and his words were soft, and it was all filling Thor with a sudden urge to speak honestly. Truthfully. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, releasing his hold against the floor, flexing his cramped fingers against the cool evening air.   
“Still hurts.”


	3. Stories of Sakaar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hulk tells his story, and Thor begins to understand what their friendship could truly mean

The silence that settled then was heavy and unpleasant, tainted by the sorrow that seems to be spreading from Thor's memories, steeped in blood and fire. But it wasn't awkward. It never really was, not with Hulk. After all, they were both like fire - loud, expressive, and confident enough in themselves to be able to face tragedy with chins held high. 

At least, that was what Thor was supposed to be. That's what the people, Asgardian and midgardian alike, had told him he was. He wasn't allowed to be awkward, or quiet, or shy. That was never his role to play. 

It was his job to fill the silence, no matter how much he wanted to fade into it. 

"Well, now it's your turn. What stories does the champion of Sakaar have in that big brain of yours?" Thor leant on his elbows, dragging himself up and away from any possibility of falling asleep. 

Hulk grumbled, pulling one of the blankets up closer to his chin.  
"No stories." 

"Oh, come on. Not even one?" 

"Blondie was there! Saw Sakaar, saw fight. Lost fight." Large hands fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, hot puffs of breath coming to life in the air, white against the dark blue shadows. 

"What about before me? You were there for two years, you must have something else." Thor tapped the edge of his chin, wracking his own brain for a possible answer.  
"What about Brunnhilde?"

Hulk's face brightened considerably at the mention of the Valkyrie. A toothy grin peeked out from the sea of blankets, muscles twitching slightly with the memories of sparring matches and play-fighting that echoed back across the two years.  
A deep rumble resounded in his chest as he got more comfortable, face scrunching up as Hulk meticulously chose the words he wanted to use for this. Because this was important to him. This was angry girl, his first friend that he'd found on his own. He didn't have Banners extensive vocabulary to back him up on this, so he tried to make up for it in tone. And gesture. 

"Angry girl take Hulk to Sakaar party, after first year. Had to wear weird clothes, and paint." He screwed up his eyebrows, expression wrinkling with disgust.  
"Looked like grandmaster." 

"Are there pictures of this?"

"Shut up." 

"I'm sure you looked very handsome. Made all the Sakaarian maidens go 'ooooh'."

"Blondie." Hulk let out a warning growl, shooting him a glare from across the room. 

"Sorry, sorry." Thor settled further into the blankets, setting aside his tea that had somehow gone cold. 

The material wasn't all that warm, now that he thought about it. It was some strange fabric that felt eerily similar to the grandmasters robes, shiny and silken with not much heat to it. The most heat in the room had come from Hulk's hand against his back - something he was really starting to miss now. 

Regardless, he didn't want to upset Hulk too much tonight. Not when he sensed he might need to get a little bit closer if he was going to avoid freezing to death. 

"Go on with the story. I'm listening." Thor rested his chin against his hand, trying to force some heat into his veins with a faint crackle of lightning, the room lighting up an eerie blue. 

"Hmph." Hulk snorted contemptuously but his frown gradually began to smoothen out, eyes following the patterns of falling sparks as he tried to pick up where his tale left off.  
"Had drinks with angry girl. Got kiss from weird golden lady." 

"Hold on, hold on." Thor barricaded a smile behind the back of his hand, scooting a little further to Hulk with eyes that were definitely far from tired, now.  
"You got a kiss?"

Hulk seemed to weigh his words before answering, green eyes following Thor's every gesture. But when he decided that Thor evidently wasn't trying to make fun of him, and maybe even sounded a little proud, his own face began to crease in a grin. 

"First kiss. Here." He reached out, one green finger poking into the soft flesh of Thor's right cheek, hovering with an almost gentle apprehension over the scarred line that crawled its way up his face, disappearing beneath his patch. 

"There." Thor echoed, lowering his voice to match an atmosphere that suddenly seemed so much more quiet than it had been.  
Hulk's hand seemed to linger, just for a moment, heat radiating off of the emerald skin and warming his face that was so, so cold without it.  
He cleared his throat roughly, when the warmth retreated, and the biting cold was left to etch its way back into his skin.  
"Hulk, that's amazing! Look at you, champion of Sakaar, a melody of fans in your wake, hanging off of your every word. I bet that was fun."

Hulk shrugged, eyes flickering back out to the stars and snow.  
"Sometimes. But...missed some things. Friends."

"Ah. Like Tony? Or perhaps Natasha?"

"Mm."  
Hulk paused, and if his chest wasn't so large Thor would probably have missed the sharp intake of air, the gap of uncertainty between words, the few milliseconds of silence that meant should I say this?  
"And Thor."

"Oh."  
Thor felt his face begin to warm with something that was decidedly not Asgardian tea. Luckily, he had about 10 blankets to stifle his rapidly approaching blush with. 

Still, what was he supposed to say to that? It was flattering, wasn't it? And he and Hulk were friends, or at least Thor considered them to be friends. It wasn't strange to miss a friend when you were stranded on an alien planet. It was just...normal. Normal behaviour. 

"Well, thank you. I missed you too."  
Thor cleared his throat, edging a little closer to the Hulk, until his shoulder brushed against a large and surprisingly (or, not really surprisingly if you actually knew Hulk) soft elbow.  
"We were all really worried about you, y'know. When you left in the Quinjet. Thought we'd scared you off for good and that was that - you were done with us. Done with the team." 

Hulk shook his head, turning until he was laying eye to eye with Thor, looking at him with an expression that was mostly confusion - and a little something that looked a lot like hope. 

"Quinjet accident." His voice, usually so loud and domineering, was a quiet whisper, barely audible against the howling of wind outside.  
"Wouldn't leave. Not forever." 

"I'm thankful." Thor considered leaving it at that. But his hand, treacherous little thing it was, reached out from under the battlement of blankets, brushing gently against Hulk's cheek.  
"I'm thankful for you coming back with me. Leaving Sakaar, it can't have been easy. But you did, and you saved me and my people."

"Wasn't so hard." 

"What, saving my people? Don't downplay your talents, my friend. It was a grand feat of-"

"Leaving Sakaar." A large green hand covered his own, squeezing gently.  
"Wasn't so hard. Just followed you." 

"Oh." 

Thor blinked, his fingers tightening around what little grip he was able to get on Hulk's hand. Part of him said this was ridiculous. He was stranded on a planet, and he should've been planning a daring escape, or a dramatic exit, or something. But here he was, holding Hulk's hand, laying shoulder to shoulder with the other strongest avenger. 

Friends didn't do this. 

But maybe his friend did. Hulk was warm, so warm, warmer than he perhaps should have been. And Thor was cold. Hulk was offering a place of refuse, a shelter from the storm, and Thor was too tired to decline or pretend like he didn't need this, once in a while. Didn't need helping, or saving, or anything. 

So when Hulk suggested that they share the blankets, for the purpose of keeping each other warm, Thor had wholeheartedly agreed. And somehow, sheltered beneath one large arm, the stars above peeked out through the storm, and shone a little bit brighter. 

Here, Thor could sleep. 

Here, he could rest.


	4. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Hulk move the ship. Shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry this one was so late! But I wanted to post this as my entry for thorbruce week day 4, with the prompt Storm! Enjoy

"Hello, brother."

Thor awoke with a start at the sound of the voice, low and threatening against his ear. The spaceship walls seemed to stretch and grow in the dark, twisting in and out of the shadows in front of him.   
He couldn't see where the voice came from. He couldn't really see much of anything. Not the sky, not the stars, and more alarmingly the reassuring mountain of green that he'd spent the night with seemed to have disappeared entirely. 

He opened his mouth to call out, but was met with silence in return. His throat felt tight, the words frantically trying to claw their way out into the open air, but dying into pained whispers before they could touch the cold atmosphere that stretched out in front of him.   
His muscles twitched, fighting to get up, but...nothing. 

If he had to describe it, it was a little like the grandmasters disk had been forced back into his neck. Tendrils of electricity paralysing his muscles, silencing his voice, keeping him pinned and muted against the uncomfortable floor. 

"Poor, poor Thor. You're rather pathetic without your friend to help, aren't you?" 

The voice came again, the mocking tones accompanied by the slow sound of heeled footsteps heading in his direction. He couldn't see beyond the ceiling staring back at him, couldn't move his neck to turn and look, but he knew who that voice belonged to. 

"Such a shame." Hela's voice drawled, and he fought back a flinch at the sound of the cold metal biting the night air - the sound of a sword materialising out of the dark. 

He felt the prick of the blade poke against his throat, not enough to draw blood, but enough. Enough. Ice cold fear gripped his veins as the sword made its way up to his face, cutting a fine line of shadow against his skin. Knees met his chest, the weight of his failure laid over him, the weight of his city, his home, burning in front of his eyes stole his breath and pounded against his ribs. The ashes of Asgard clogged in his throat, as the dagger brushed almost cruelly gently against his eye. 

Hela chuckled, darker than the night sky itself. He almost wished she'd say something. Give an evil speech, an evil cackle, an evil something. Anything. Anything but the silence and the waiting for the blade to fall. Anything but that. 

The sword fell across his face. 

Asgard burned. 

Thor woke, cold and somehow sweaty, shooting to his feet the moment his world stopped spinning. Adrenaline thudded through his veins as blankets tumbled to the floor, and he staggered towards the light of the moon and the stars and somewhere, somewhere far out there was home. Home wasn't gone. It was different now, a crawling spacecraft packed with Asgardians and Sakaarians, but still there.   
Still there.   
Hela was gone. He was okay. 

Thor groaned quietly, lowering himself carefully back onto the floor. Shaking fingertips brushed the heavy material of his eyepatch, traced around the dark spot of vision that honestly he was still getting used to. Dark metal met scarred flesh as his hand made its way carefully down his face, reaffirming memories that didn't need revising. They never would. The one thing he could truly be sure about now was that he wasn't going to forget about his home. The golden spires crumbling under Sutur's sword. The fire and brimstone and sulfur choking his lungs would never leave him, not really. 

It was just another thing to add to the list. Loki’s face as he fell into the chasm above the bifrost. His mother’s prone body, cradled in his father’s arms. Odin himself, even, disappearing into golden flakes over the horizon of somewhere he’d told him was home. His mouth tasted bitter at that particular memory. 

He knew he was supposed to be sad. And he was. He’d lost Odin, his father, the constant force in his life that had guided him through so much. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling of anger that clenched at his soul, sometimes.   
Times like now, when it was the early hours of the morning. Hulk wasn’t awake - no one was awake - no one to keep his mind from wandering to just how unfair things were. Frigga had never had the opportunity to say goodbye, not really. Odin had. He’d had months where he could’ve said something, anything, anything outside of an ‘I love you’ that came years too late. 

It hurt. Faded, somewhat, when Loki had been coaxed into that reluctant hug back aboard the Statesman. But it still stung. 

Memories were something Thor had decided long ago wouldn’t be kind to him. That’s why he lived in the now, in the present, and that was the blinding light where he began to force his mind to crawl towards. He didn’t have time to dwell on the past, not now. Right now, his concern lay with the ship, and it’s frankly precarious position. 

“Hulk? Hulk, come on. Wake up”   
Thor pulled back a layer of blanket, peeking through the woolen shields to find a green face, scrunching up against what little light of day they had.

“Hngh. Too early.” Hulk rolled over, twisting away from Thor with an irritated grunt.   
“Go back to sleep.”

“Oh, come off it. You’re the Grand Champion.”   
Thor neatly stepped around the large mound of blankets, crouching down until blue eyes met green.   
“I sincerely doubt an early morning is above your strengths. Now, up. I need you to help me move the ship.”

To his credit, Hulk did eventually clamber out of his fortress of blankets. He looked a little put out at being woken up from his sleep (even more put out when he saw the state of the sky outside, still black and speckled with stars, like salt sprinkled on a tile of slate), scowling and muttering various threats and grievances to himself until he was stood at Thor’s side, trying to see what was so interesting about the window outside that the demi-god was currently staring at.

It wasn’t much, out there. If he was being totally honest with himself, Thor was beginning to find it a little difficult staying positive throughout all this. The storm still raged, the cold still bit, and his eye hadn’t quite managed to rid itself from the phantom sting of Hela’s sword. But, that wasn’t exactly new. Not to him, at least.  
He hadn’t quite had the heart to tell Bruce or the medics about it, because what would be the point? His eye was gone. That was that. No amount of healing magic could knit the flesh back together, could banish the blind spot from the right side of his vision. It was over and done with. If it stung, it stung - and that was all there was to it.

Still, it was a little concerning that the ache hadn’t dissipated yet. That in itself was part of the reason why he was so anxious to get back to the ship. That, and freezing to death after his homeworld had just been set on fire was a little too ironic of a way to go out for his taste. 

“Okay, Hulk up. Now what?” Hulk stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, nudging Thor out of his momentary stupor with one large shoulder in a gesture that felt just north of being clouted by a bag of bricks. 

“Well, we can’t really stay here. Look at it out there - it isn’t safe.” Thor’s hands moved to cling to his arms, sighing softly as he watched the storm. 

His element. The thing he was supposed to control, to harness, to cast upon enemies and to bend to his will. He watched it rage outside of the window, and tentatively pressed a hand against the glass, feeling for the familiar bite of his fingertips that meant that it was listening. 

It wasn’t. 

“Look - regardless of who has the most strength between us, we can both agree that we’re the strongest avengers, correct?”

Hulk tilted his head, blinking as he thought over the question thoroughly.   
“Both strong…” He nodded, pausing briefly as his face broke into a toothy smile. “But Hulk stronger.”

“Oh yes, incredibly strong. Look at you, up by dawn and everything.” Thor rolled his eyes, but his traitorous face couldn’t really help but twitch up in a grin at Hulk’s enthusiasm.   
“Regardless of who’s actually the strongest, we’re both pretty strong. Strong enough to lift this thing, given the right positioning.”

“Why lift it? Ship fine.”  
And to prove it, Hulk took what was clearly the most reasonable course of action and pounded his fist against the metal, the loud bang that followed forcing his shoulders up in a tight flinch. 

"Hey- hey! Careful!"   
Thor's hand shot out, tugging Hulk back away from the sides of the ship with an exasperated sigh.   
"Look, you may be able to survive a fall from this height, but I can't. So we need to lift the ship." 

"Pff. Like to see Blondie try."

"Oh, don't you worry, my big green friend." Thor chuckled, albeit a little emptily as he eyed the brewing storm in front of them.   
"I have a plan." 

***

With each gust of wind sending a thousand icey needles into his skin, and the daunting chasm that he’d very nearly taken a freestyle dive into just last night laying before his feet, it was understandable that Thor wasn’t quite as confident about this plan as he had been.

Explaining it to Hulk, he’d sounded perfectly reasonable. 

It’ll be fine, Hulk. I’ll just hop on up to the cliffside and wait until a lightning bolt hits the ship, and then I’ll grab it defying all laws of physics, and things will be absolutely a-ok. 

He’d even given him a thumbs up, he’d been so confident. But now, as he stared at the dark storm clouds brewing in the distance, he couldn’t help but feel he’d been a tad overzealous with his description. Especially considering his powers hadn’t been all that obedient lately.   
Without mjolnir, the storm just didn’t seem to listen to him. Or at least, not in the way it had. 

Before, it had been controlled - a perfectly tameable beast, that would be summoned by a wave of his hammer and that would be that. But now, it seemed to have shifted into something else. Something that, although he’d never admit it, Thor was a little afraid of. It reminded him too much of his nights as a child, laying wide awake and listening to the storms echoing above his chambers, wondering which bolt would be the one to ignite the golden tower and set his home ablaze. 

When he’d summoned the storm to fight Hela, there had been a sickening feeling in his stomach afterwards that maybe it wouldn’t let him go. Maybe the lightning would keep firing, arcs of burning light continuing to light his veins until they drained dry entirely. 

Maybe this gift would be the death of him.   
If it was ever a gift in the first place, and not just another destiny that had been piled on top of him, another weight stacked onto his back that he was expected to hold, another burden he was supposed to carry with his head held high and a golden smile plastered across his face. 

“Ok, Hulk ready.”  
Hulk’s voice crackled from the radio strapped to his arm, the loud volume a sharp but not entirely unwelcome break from his thoughts. 

“Alright. Let’s go over the plan one more time, because I do not want to risk electrocuting you.” 

He could almost hear Hulk’s frustrated scowl from the other side of the phone, but he seemed to be keeping his promise not to smash the one radio set they’d been able to find, and soon Hulk’s voice came again after a loud burst of static. 

“Hulk punch ship, get it to move. Lightning hit ship, Thor grab. Thor pull. Hulk jump up after Blondie let go,”   
Hulk’s voice wavered for a moment, and a particularly nasty part of Thor’s imagination decided to supply him with the vision of Hulk, alone on a rocky outcrop, staring up at the shelter he’d been dragged out of, putting his faith in a plan he didn’t know would succeed.   
“Right?”

“Right.”  
Thor confirmed, feeling a familiar bite at his fingertips that meant something was coming.

The storm above him curled, like some kind of giant serpent, lightning flashing like the forked tongue of Jormungandr, and he knew it was time. 

“You’re going to be fine, Hulk. This will work. I have complete faith in you.”   
He rolled back his shoulders, taking a few steps back from the clifftop, and considered letting out a careful and controlled breath before realising that wasn’t what they needed.   
Like it or not, the storm didn’t respond to calm. His power wasn’t tied to his happiness, it didn’t conjure itself when he was feeling calm, or content, or held - the rare times those feelings happened. 

The storm wanted anger. It wanted frustration. It wanted to leech the power and pain of his fathers death, his mothers, the burning wreckage of Asgard that still burned behind his empty eye socket. 

It didn’t want Thor. It wanted a God - vengeful, and wrathful. 

Thor opened his fist, and the skies split apart. 

•••

Things happened in quick succession after that. The ship moved with the sound of Hulk’s roar as green collided with metal, and for a few moments it lay suspended in air, like a puppet just after it’s strings have been slashed. 

The first few bolts of lightning missed their mark entirely, carving patterns into the stone walls, sending rocks scattering into the ravine below. But the next one struck true, and so, Thor did the only thing any perfectly reasonable Asgardian would do. 

He grabbed it.

For a few sickening moments, it wavered. The lightning flickered and struggled in his hand, trying to rip out of his grasp and return to the storm it was summoned from. 

“Don’t you dare.” Thor hissed through gritted teeth, as the weight of the ship pulled on his makeshift rope, dragging him a few uncertain steps forward towards the ravine. 

But, thanks to some miracle, it held. He took a few shaking steps backward, and the groan of metal responded - the ship was moving.

It was moving. It was working. Thor felt the beginnings of a smile begin to cross his face as he continued his journey backwards.  
Sure, his hands were hurting, and every inch of his body was screaming at him to let go, you idiot, this is a whole spaceship you’re trying to pull with a rope made of lightning, but he was fine. He was going to make it. 

They were going to make it. 

Hulk’s triumphant roar reached his ears, and the ground shook slightly as the giant landed next to him.   
He watched avidly, green eyes stretched wide, but Hulk knew better than to help. Thor had warned him, in no uncertain terms, that this was dangerous. That Thor didn’t want to hurt Hulk, truly, that was the last thing he wanted in all of the nine realms - but he might. 

Hulk couldn’t help him. As much as it looked like he needed it, this was for Thor, and Thor alone. 

The wingspan of the ship appeared above the edge of the cliff, and Hulk’s roar only grew that much louder. 

“Ship! Puny God lift the ship!”   
He saw Hulk’s face break into a grin, lighting up the rest of his face as if he was able to conjure lightning himself. 

The burning feeling was getting worse, a steady pressure building behind his eyes, but Thor knew by now to ignore it. They were this close, he couldn’t falter now. Not even if yellow spots were beginning to dance across his vision, or if he felt a slow trickle of something hideously warm begin to drip down from his nose. Not even if Hulk’s grin fell, and he looked at him differently, with concern. With worry. 

He couldn’t stop. No matter if that was what Hulk was yelling at him to do. 

His foot hit something. A rock, a vine, he wasn’t exactly sure what it was. But it was enough.   
Enough of a distraction that the lightning took the one chance for freedom it had, and shot out of his hands, chasing a burning course through the rest of his body. People had described his veins being alight with the storm before, but he hadn’t realised quite how painful that sounded until he was bearing the full force of it himself.   
A sharp gasp escaped him as the lightning fell, and the ship teetered dangerously on the edge of the clifface. 

But, someone was there to help. 

A few ground-shaking footsteps passed where he was knelt on the floor, a flash of green darting towards the ship. Emerald hands grabbed hold, forest-green legs remained sturdy and strong, leaf coloured eyes narrowing in concentration as Hulk held up the ship.   
The bundle of metal and wingspan was thrown crudely to one side once it reached safety, and soon Thor felt the hot puffs of breath against his neck that meant Hulk was standing over him, a little too closely for his liking. 

“Easy, easy.” 

Large hands lay across his back, holding him upright, thick muscles barely making a twitch whenever a stray spark would pass their way. 

“Blondie ok. Storm over now,” Hulk furrowed his brows for a further piece of advice, his voice turning gentle and soft.   
“Breathe.” 

“I am breathing.” 

“Breathe better.” 

Thor really wanted to scowl. Truly, he did. There was nothing more he wanted than to get to his feet, throw Hulk’s hands off of him, and insist firmly but kindly that everything was absolutely fine, thank you. This sort of thing happens all the time, actually, and I’m great at summoning storms, this is just an off day for me. Won’t happen again.

But he didn’t know that. And Hulk’s hands felt nice, they always did. They’d felt nice, cradling him the night before, under soft words of stories and the stars of the night sky. And they felt nice now, a little cold perhaps, and he could feel the grooves in the skin from where the weight of the ship had landed, but they were firm. Stable. A grounding force, an insulating cable, a tether that told him how to breathe and be. 

Quite unexpectedly, it didn’t matter if it was humiliating anymore. If it was kingly, or stoic, or right. Thor had just lost control of a storm, his body hurt, and he was tired. 

Slowly, he allowed himself to tip over in the direction of Hulk’s hands, resting his cheek against the comforting solidness of Hulk’s leg. 

He allowed himself a glance upward, trying to reassure Hulk’s worried gaze with a battered smile, and a gentle pat to the arm that was currently still curled around his side. 

“You’re getting really good at this whole ‘saving us’ thing, y’know that?” 

“Well...Hulk make pinkie promise.” He bent down a little further, relinquishing his hold just for a moment to nudge the underside of Thor’s chin with his pinkie.   
“Can’t break those.”

“No.”  
Thor chuckled, trying to ignore the aching protest of his ribs as he did so.   
“Can’t break those.”


	5. The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The effects of Thor's mishap have started to take their toll. And, to add to the drama, some feelings are beginning to come to light.

The two had made a careful camp, in the wake of the ship, and it was almost comforting in a weird sort of way. The ships wingspan protected them from the falling snow, and the fire that blazed in front of them from the small amount of wood they’d been able to gather was comforting. 

Oddly, it reminded him of home. The smell of smoke, and the warmth of a companion next to him. It was like his childhood had come back in full colour - the dark blue shade of the night sky, orange and yellow flames illuminating the underside of their faces. All they needed was a few good ghost stories, and they’d be set for the evening.

An evening that never seemed to end - Thor nibbled at his bottom lip as he glanced upwards towards the sky. Still dark. There hadn’t been a ray of sun since they’d gotten here, and he silently cursed himself for not paying more attention to the ships mapping system when he’d had the chance.   
A planet with eternal darkness - that was probably a prominent clue as to where they were. 

“It’s a pity Loki isn’t here,”  
Thor rubbed his hands together over the flames, trying to coax some warmth back into them.   
“He’d probably be able to figure out where we are in a heartbeat.”

“Or Angry Girl.”   
Hulk sniffed, looking oddly endearing with his knees drawn up to his chest, and a blanket thrown over his shoulders. 

Thor hummed his agreement, shuffling closer to the fire, ignoring the twinges of pain that any sort of movement seemed to be sending shooting down his spine.

Which, probably wasn’t good. This whole situation probably wasn’t good, no matter how much nostalgia he managed to cloak it in. 

His lightning had never reacted like that before. No matter how temperamental it was, it was still his. It destroyed, it fixed, it did whatever it was meant to do - because he told it to. It didn’t disobey him. It wasn’t supposed to.

He frowned, studying the veins in his hand that had been alight with lightning just a few hours ago. Something had to have changed, but he couldn’t place his finger on what. Because what could be so powerful as to disarm him, The God of Thunder, from his element? 

A large finger prodded into his cheek, and he looked up to see Hulk’s face peering down at him with concern. 

“Gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

Hulk grunted, gesturing wildly with his hands out to the ship. To the lines of black, leftover scorch marks burned into blue metal from where his lightning had touched it. Hadn’t destroyed it, at least not completely, but had still been volatile enough to leave a mark. 

“Dropped ship. Powers didn’t work, ” Hulk moved a little closer, lowering his voice as if he was telling a secret - despite there being no one but the howling wind to tell.   
“Why?” 

“If I had an answer for you, I would provide it. As of right now your guess is as good as mine.” 

Hulk nodded, turning his face back up to the stars, letting out a soft sigh that was illuminated white against the darkness of the outdoors. 

Thor wasn’t quite sure what compelled him to say what he did next. Maybe it was Hulk’s face, so rarely calm and yet now, it seemed he couldn’t be anything but. Seeing him like this, green skin smoothed with an odd sense of relaxation - if you didn’t know him, you’d think he was like this all the time. Just someone watching the stars, on an insignificant night, on an insignificant planet.

But, if you knew him, you’d understand how special this was. It wasn’t insignificant, at least, not in the dismissive way.   
It had taken so long for Hulk to become something else, in Thor’s eyes. 2 whole years away from earth and suddenly, he wasn’t a big green mass of rage that operated only on fear.   
He had a life. He had friends.   
Thor could curse himself for not seeing it sooner. 

“You know, I think we actually have a lot in common - you, me, and Bruce. I think we make quite a good team.”  
Thor drew his hands back from the fire - not that he was getting much warmth from it, anyway - setting them behind him, so he could stare up at the sky. 

Hulk stiffened at the mention of Bruce, a large hand idly reaching up to trace at the wound from yesterday - that was almost nothing but a scar by now. 

“Thor changing the subject.” 

“I just thought it was important for you to know. That you’re important.” He let out a soft grunt as he lowered himself down to his elbows, allowing his eyes to shut just for a few moments.   
“You and Banner. It doesn’t have to be a competition.” 

A few seconds of quiet passed, and Thor was a little worried he’d crossed a line, until he felt the warmth of a larger hand covering his own. 

“Maybe,” Hulk shifted, linking his fingers with Thor’s.   
“Don’t say it like that, though.”

“Like what?”

“Like goodbye. ” 

Thor’s eye opened again, and Hulk had gotten somehow closer, a few inches away from his face. 

And he was worried. Again. 

The words ‘friend stay’ had been echoing around his skull as of late, and right now they had never seemed more relevant. He hadn’t meant to imply...whatever Hulk thought he was implying. He wasn’t going anywhere, at least, wasn’t planning on it. 

But, things had been going wrong. And things had been going right, but in the wrong kind of way. The Norns clearly weren’t on his side, at least that much was clear. 

Who’s to say what would happen once they returned to earth? Would earth even let them stay? And if they didn’t would Bruce and Hulk want to go with the Asgardians to someplace else?? 

Did Thor want them to go with him? 

It seemed he had a habit of leaving people he cared about behind. Distance had driven he and Jane apart, and now it seemed that destiny wanted to repeat that. 

Maybe he was destined to be alone. 

“Hulk, I’m...I don’t want to go anywhere. Truly. You are..”   
He paused, feeling his throat run dry, but the words seemed to be spilling out regardless, creating an uncomfortable tightness in his throat. 

“You are special to me. You and Bruce, both.” 

“Special how?”

Ah.  
There it was. 

The question that a thousand doubts and fears couldn’t overrun. And an answer that he didn’t know how to articulate - and he wished he could. He wished he wasn’t the only one in his family born without a silver tongue, because there was so much he wanted to say and so much he couldn’t. 

How could you express that someone feels like home? That two people, sharing one body, have also found a second place deep within your heart? 

Bruce was special. He was kind and thoughtful and so, so brilliant that he outshone the stars themselves. And Hulk was, for want of a word more befitting, sweet. Caring, in a gruff sort of way. A way that when thousands of planets away from home, forced into an alien gladiator arena, just the sight of him made him feel hopeful enough to yell and- 

Oh dear. 

“I don’t know. You just are, ok? You’re just special to me. In a way that means I don’t want to leave you, not really ever, actually and - why are you asking so many questions?” 

Thor scrambled to his feet, which turned out to be a mistake, his vision swimming rapidly in front of his eyes. And that, of course, made Hulk stand up, and put his hands on Thor’s shoulders which was the kind of contact he’d been trying to avoid. It was too warm. Too real. Too close to igniting something and making him say something that could ruin things. 

“Look, just uhm...I’m going to go explore, alright? Find some more firewood or something. And then we can talk about this back on the ship.” 

“Why Thor being weird?

“I’m not! This is normal!” 

“Nuh uh.”   
Hulk planted both hands firmly back onto Thor’s shoulders, and this time he couldn’t wriggle out. Green eyes bored down into him, narrowing in suspicion.   
“Thor off since ship crashed. Something wrong. Banner think so too.”

“You talked to Bruce about me?!” Thor couldn’t hide the sting of betrayal in his voice, no matter how petty and small he knew he sounded. 

His voice was nothing, in the wake of the storm. 

“Had to! Thor kept saying everything was fine, wouldn’t talk to Hulk properly!”   
His expression softened, then, and his hands fell to Thor’s sides, holding him gently at the elbows.   
“What happened?”

And there was another similarity.   
Hulk was clever. He had to be, sharing a mind with the one and only Bruce Banner. People tended to forget that, sometimes. When he wanted to be, Hulk could be sharp. Attentive. When things were worth it, he could pay attention.

And apparently, Thor was worth it. 

“Nothing happened.” Thor shook himself free of Hulk’s grip, shrugging his cape back over his shoulders.   
“I’ll be back later.”

“Thor-”

“I’ll be back. Watch the ship.” 

***

He figured he just needed to walk the feelings off. Clear his head, and all that. Lately he’d bee too unfocused - and that was his fault. He hadn’t been on the ball, in fact he’d been so far off the ball that he wasn’t even in the same star system as said ball. 

It didn’t help that Hulk was fretting over him like a worried mother hen. He didn’t need that - he was the God of Thunder. He was the one doing the protecting. That’s just how it went. 

It didn’t matter that it felt nice to be held. What mattered was what was right. And what was right was for Thor to fly them both out of there, and that would be that. 

Maybe once they were safe, Thor could figure out these feelings. Because there wasn’t any point in denying them anymore. He’d all but blurted out a full declaration of something back at the campfire, and now was not the place for...whatever this was. Flirting? Friendship? Camaraderie? 

Naming his affection had never been his forte. Back on Asgard, he had time to practise these sorts of things. To write out the declarations of love, get the phrasing just so, and as such he’d had quite the reputation. 

On instinct, however, he was significantly less eloquent. 

Thor rounded a corner, the icy wind helping somewhat to lessen the burning feeling of shame in his face. Soft snow gave way to harsh rock, and he was so deep in thought that he almost missed the sight of a lone figure standing in the shadows of the cliff-face, starlight sparkling from ice-clad skin. 

His eyes wandered over the clothing, the light markings etched onto dark blue skin, and his legs almost caved under him with the weight of the relief.

Because for the first time in quite a few days, he knew what that was. More importantly, he knew where that was. Where they, by extent, were. And how to get home. He could’ve hit himself for not realising it sooner. He was on a planet of ice, with skies full of snow and storms, barren trees and steep ravines scattered as far as the eye could see. 

And standing in front of him, with their backs turned, was a frost giant.

Jotunheim. They had to be on Jotunheim. 

“Hulk? Hulk, are you listening?” His hands, numb with cold, fumbled with the communicator, turning dials and pressing unfamiliar symbols until his friends deep grumble resounded on the other side.   
“I’ve figured it out, we’re on Jotunheim! There’s a local here, I’m going to try to talk to them. See if we can’t find a way out of this mess.” 

Without waiting for a response, Thor clipped the device back onto his belt, and began walking forward. He wasn’t so naive as to assume he’d be entirely welcome here. Not after last time, at least. But he figured he’d at least made some steps towards forgiveness. Saving them from the bifrost, for one. Saving them - and the universe - from the Convergence, for two. And by now he really wasn’t above apologising if that’s what it would take to get them out of here. 

“Excuse me?” Thor approached the figure, raising his hand in what he hoped was a friendly greeting, trying to pull back on the lessons he’d had from Stark about appearing less like a terrifying elemental thunder god.   
“Sorry to be a disturbance, but-”

“Foolish boy.” 

“...Ah, right. Yes, I figured this might happen. Please, forgive my intrusion, I’m not here to cause trouble. Not even here on behalf of Asgard, actually. It got destroyed, if you could believe it. By my own sister which I didn’t even know I had and - I’m oversharing, sorry.” 

Thor finally managed to catch his breath, shaking his head slightly to try and clear the fuzziness within it. He was definitely coming down with something. But, still, that was no reason not to focus. His mind was still as sharp as ever, cold or no. Still perfectly capable of negotiating an exit, even if the ice giant had been quiet for a rather long time now, and that feeling of unease was slowly beginning to creep it’s way back up into his chest. 

“My friend and I crashed our ship. We just need help, until our people can transport us home.”

“Still so young, Odinson. Young, brash, and full of storms.” A low laugh escaped the figure, as the tall form began to turn, casting long shadows against the dark wall of the cliff.   
“You haven’t changed.” 

“I...what?” Thor narrowed his eyes, taking a few stumbled steps backwards. He hated how unsure he sounded, unauthoritative and unknowing, but the cold grip of doubt was beginning to tighten, making it fractionally harder to breathe.

He had to be imagining things. He could almost laugh at himself, really. Hulk would certainly have a field day with this when he finally caught up to them, because honestly, for a moment there Thor had actually considered that this might be -

The figure completed its turn, and the cold red eyes of Laufey stared back at him. 

His voice died in his throat. Laufey. King of the Frost Giants, Laufey. The very Laufey who’d been murdered in his father’s bedroom while he’d been banished on earth. 

He couldn’t be here. 

He couldn’t. 

“Poor, naive prince of Asgard.” Laufey’s voice echoed across stone, the grating of ice against cliffside scraping against his ears, somehow even worse than bruce’s chalk against a board could ever be. 

“You’re not real.” Thor almost whispered, half drowned out by the noise of the ever-present gale that hadn’t faded since their arrival. He took a few more steps backward, pinching at the bridge of his nose, rubbing at his temples, his eyes - trying anything to be rid of this illusion. 

“And why is that?” 

“Because you’re dead! You died years ago. I was there, you -” He finally managed to look up, his one good eye longing for any kind of focus. “You can’t be here.” 

Not-Laufey’s voice dropped to a murmur, as he regarded his hand with mild interest, red-eyed gaze flickering over where a spear of ice was quickly reaching a point.   
“Just another life taken by your doing, Odinson. Just another kingdom unravelled under Asgard’s lust for war. For conquest. How many have followed me, I wonder?” 

The wind picked up, pieces of grit and hail lashing his face like a thousand razor-sharp needles against his skin. He lifted his arms, torn between shielding himself and desperately trying to show that he didn’t mean harm. He didn’t want harm. He didn’t want, he didn’t, he didn’t.

“Was it your arrogance that caused your kingdoms downfall? Your sheer, stubborn belief that you could force the Norns hands if you so wanted?” 

Thor clamped his hands over his ears, screwing his single eye shut against the burning heat of the tears that were forming. His head hurt, his lungs ached with each stinging breath of air he took in, and he felt ashamed. 

“That’s not what I tried to do. I just wanted to prevent Ragnarok - I was saving us!”

“And in doing so, you opened the doors for Hela. Perhaps if you had stepped out of Surtur’s way, you wouldn’t have been touched with such tragedy.” 

Not-Laufey’s hand wrapped around the hilt of his spear, and his footsteps increased, each fall pounding against his ears as if the giant was made out of stone. 

“Perhaps you’d have more people left to mourn for you, when you die at my hand.” 

The sound of a spear piercing metal was one that Thor knew all too well. He’d felt the point of a blade against his skin before, it had been commonplace since childhood. Yet no spear-head, no dagger, no weapon he knew of felt as truly wrong as Laufey’s spear entering his chest. It wasn’t a stinging pain, no. It was cold. A numbing ache, that seemed to seep down to his bones, to his soul. Tendrils of ice seized his muscles and seemed to freeze him where he stood.

He barely felt it when his knees hit the stone floors. Everything already felt so far away. Already, he felt the cold whispering to him. Already, he felt his vision begin to fail him. Laufey left, and so did the stone, and the cliffs, and the spear.

Only the barren trees filled his vision before darkness took him, and he let himself fall.


End file.
